


other half

by oikawashoyo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Dates, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Introspection, M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26124046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oikawashoyo/pseuds/oikawashoyo
Summary: Perhaps it is unfair, to force them into this conversation at a time like this, in which change is clawing at their heels.“What happened to hit it until it breaks?” Iwaizumi asks instead, voice rising.“Maybe, I—,” Oikawa cuts himself off and barks out a laugh, “Maybe I just don’t want to break anything this time.”After eighteen years of a shared existence, Oikawa and Iwaizumi finally unearth long-established feelings.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 19
Kudos: 393





	other half

There is something poetic, Oikawa thinks, about personal epiphanies when the flowers are no longer in bloom. Maybe it is the warmth that spreads in your chest despite the cold of the outside or the joy that wars against the melancholy of winter. But mostly, it is the feeling of being reborn. It is discarding who you were before and growing beyond what you even imagined possible.

This time, the catalyst was the Argentine setter that Oikawa has always strived to be. A simple reminder, and yet a decisive part in Oikawa’s long march towards the achievement of his dreams. _If you don’t believe the day will come, then it never will._ But the thing about examining one part of your life is that it will always lead to deeper waters. And Oikawa is nothing if not thorough.

Of course, in the end, it leads him to where it all began.

Iwaizumi.

The one thing that he has never examined any further. Simply because it has always been there. For Oikawa, life without Iwaizumi does not exist. They are two interknit tapestries; without the other, the seams would rip, fibre for fibre, and all that is left will remain unrecognizable. Oikawa has realised long ago that his universe does not turn for a future without Iwaizumi by his side. 

It is on one of those days that Oikawa finally looks further and lets this particular realisation settle in his chest. The sun breaks through the icy wind of this late March day, as Oikawa and Iwaizumi leave Matsukawa’s house. Oikawa’s hands are buried deep in his pockets, face nearly entirely hidden in his scarf. He chances a look to his right and sees Iwaizumi’s breaths come in puffs as an obvious shiver runs up his arms. It should have been strange to look at his childhood friend with something beyond the platonic affection that he is supposed to feel. But it is with a startling clarity that Oikawa realises that he has never looked at Iwaizumi any differently than he does now.

How was he supposed to know when this feeling in his chest has only ever been equated with _what he feels for Hajime_?

Iwaizumi shivers again, attempting to bury his face further into his scarf. His nose scrunches up when that requires the arduous task of moving his hand out of his pocket to adjust and pull it up and Oikawa is _floored_. Now that he knows, understands the way his heart beats in his chest, he cannot look away. His eyes are glued to the little furrow of Iwaizumi’s brow, the disheveled way his hair falls over his forehead. Warmth crawls up his spine and he wonders if it has always been like this, Iwaizumi’s presence enveloping him like a well-known comfort.

It is at this moment, when his face heats and fingers shake, that Iwaizumi turns to look back at him. The second their eyes meet, Oikawa is shocked to find the feeling in his chest reflected back at him. Or maybe, he is not. Recognition dawns at the slight crease of worry expressed in the downturn of Iwaizumi’s mouth, belying the layers upon layers of affection hidden underneath.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asks, jerking to a stop. The park they have found themselves in is deserted, the path beneath their feet looks grey. Melancholy hangs heavy in the air.

“Oh,” Oikawa sighs, raising a hand to wave it slightly in the air, “nothing’s wrong, Iwa-chan. I’m just thinking. You should try it some time.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth slides even further into a frown and he spends a moment studying him. Oikawa already knows that no disguise could prevent his best friend from digging further, particularly if he has already caught a glimpse beneath the surface.

“We still have a few months left,” Iwaizumi says, tone tinted with something heavy. “Our lives here won’t just stop just because we’re leaving Japan.”

“But they’ll change,” Oikawa says, and turns so that he’s facing Iwaizumi. “Iwa-chan won’t be able to spend all his time with me anymore.”

“As if I’d want that,” Iwaizumi scoffs, smile playing at his mouth, “I swear, Oikawa, if you call me in the middle of the night just to annoy me, I will fly to Argentina just to punch you in the face.”

Something flickers over his face and Oikawa’s gaze sharpens.

“So calling during the _day_ just to annoy you is okay?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes don’t waver, even as a touch of pink begins dusting his cheeks. “Of course it is, dumbass.”

Oikawa’s nerves settle. This is an open door, an invitation. Oikawa doesn’t know whether it is right to accept it, but he’s never been known for leaving well enough alone. Allowing the feeling to spread within his chest, the warmth to spark at his fingertips, he takes a step closer. It is a particularly daring set, counting on the inherent connection between a setter and his ace. 

“I’ll miss you, ‘Zumi,” Oikawa says. 

He watches as Iwaizumi’s eyes widen and then fill with determination. “I’ll still be there.”

Oikawa hums, “Will you?”

Iwaizumi’s jaw tightens. Unspoken words pass between them, expressed through years of a shared existence.

Perhaps it is unfair, to force them into this conversation at a time like this, in which change is clawing at their heels. 

“What happened to hit it until it breaks?” Iwaizumi asks instead, voice rising.

“Maybe, I—,” Oikawa cuts himself off and barks out a laugh, “Maybe I just don’t want to break anything this time.”

Iwaizumi softens, anger leaving his body in a single breath. Raising his arm, he hooks it into the crook of Oikawa’s elbow. He is sure to feel the shiver running down Oikawa’s spine at the touch. “Both of us don’t break that easily, ‘Kawa,” he mutters. 

For a moment, they are frozen. Eyes locked in place as they both contemplate those words. Then, Iwaizumi sighs, his grip on Oikawa’s arm tightens.

“I want this. Do you?”

Commitment has never come halfhearted to Oikawa. It has always been all-embracing, without pretense or hesitation. He is simply incapable of loving moderately, Oikawa thinks, and watches their play score. “Of course I do.”

Oikawa feels something honey-sweet drip into his stomach as his ace takes a step closer, closer, and closer, until their breaths mingle and Iwaizumi’s head tilts backward to look up at him. “You sure?” Iwaizumi whispers into the space between their lips.

Oikawa _burns_ and yet it is the calmest he has felt in years. He watches the red spread beyond Iwaizumi’s cheeks, all the way to his ears, watches the slight hitch of breath when Oikawa’s arms circle his waist, the way his eyes flutter when he connects their foreheads, noses rubbing against each other. They are _so_ close; all it would take is a single push, a few centimeters, to connect their bodies in a way their minds have been for years. 

Iwaizumi’s head tips back, chin tilting upwards. Oikawa’s hand dances up his spine, gloved finger brushing over his shoulder, his collarbone, his neck. 

“Hajime,” Oikawa mutters, eyes catching on Iwaizumi’s sharp intake of breath at the name, “I like you _so_ much.”

His finger sweeps over Iwaizumi’s cheekbone, follows the blush to the tip of his ear and back. It moves down, gently brushing over his lower lip, pulling lightly. Then, it slides back up, tentatively. Oikawa watches Iwaizumi rock forward and lays his finger flat over his mouth, stopping him in his tracks. Iwaizumi’s eyes snap open, brows raising in surprise. A grin grows on Oikawa’s face.

“But I think you have to take me on a date first, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s lips twitch in amusement, even as his eyes narrow with a dangerous glint. “You’re really the shittiest guy I know.”

At this, Oikawa laughs, loud and happy, as he buries his face in Iwaizumi’s neck. Strong arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling them even closer, and the shaking of the chest pressed against his is unmistakable. Oikawa doesn’t know how long they stay like this, in each other’s arms, but he feels relief become a palpable companion. Then, there are lips brushing against his neck, kissing the sensitive skin with utmost care. “I really like you, too, Tooru. I can wait.”

Oikawa’s chest cavity threatens to collapse under the sheer weight of his feelings. Breaking the hug, he takes a step back and paints a charming smile on his face. “I’m worth the wait, I promise.”

It is only when he attempts to resume their walk that he remembers Iwaizumi’s grip on his arm. He looks up in question, but is startled when Iwaizumi’s hand wanders down to his own, only to slowly, carefully, pull off Oikawa’s glove. Discarding his own, Iwaizumi shoves them both in his pocket and gently interlaces their fingers. Warmth spreads over Oikawa’s cheeks and he buries his face in his scarf with a smile.

“Let’s go?” Iwaizumi asks, nudging him along.

“Yes,” Oikawa murmurs. They share a smile, all tender longing and sweet anticipation, and make their way home, hand in hand.

Oikawa brings flowers.

They shimmer in vibrant shades of green and blue and Iwaizumi is obviously surprised to see them, given the way he keeps flitting between the flowers and Oikawa’s face with wide eyes. Oikawa feels pride swell up within his chest like a wave. Surprising someone who knows and understands all intricacies of your own self is hardly an easy task. But Oikawa is nothing if not determined — after eighteen years of a shared existence, it is only right that their first date would unearth new experiences and long-established feelings.

Such as the soft current of tenderness running beneath their skin as they make their way to the city. The first part of their date is spent at a charming little restaurant that Iwaizumi has found and suggested. Filled with heavy looks and nearly touching fingers, it leaves Oikawa feeling as if the emotions are spilling past his chest, too immense to be contained by the smiles and laughter shared between the two. 

They bicker back and forth as they fight over the bill, before Oikawa nearly throws his card at the waiter and gives him a pleading look to ignore Iwaizumi’s protests. The waiter flushes and hurries away, and Oikawa turns back to an unimpressed Iwaizumi, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“What?” Oikawa asks, all feigned innocence.

“You can’t just charm people into giving you what you want.”

At this, Oikawa leans closer, slowly sliding his arm across the back of the booth. The way Iwaizumi’s eyes are glued to his is _intoxicating_ and he can’t help but think of their connection on the court. That perfect harmony, the push and pull that can only be found in a relationship characterised by an equal force on either side. He thinks about their last match, that flawless play that still failed, and makes the choice to believe that this one won’t.

Iwaizumi’s cheek is warm when he brushes his lips against it. “Why not?”

A smile blooms on Iwaizumi’s face, small and sincere. It makes Oikawa’s heart swell. “Someone,” Iwaizumi begins, voice low, “will take you up on it, one day.”

“What if I want him to?”

Iwaizumi’s look is positively dangerous, eyes piercing his in a way that sends a shiver down Oikawa’s spine. A hand lands on his thigh, its weight heavy. 

And getting heavier, as Iwaizumi uses the leverage to push himself up into a standing position and take back Oikawa’s card and receipt from the returning waiter. Pressing it into Oikawa’s hand, Iwaizumi laughs at the pout on his face.

“I thought you didn’t mind waiting?” he says with a grin.

“I’ve lost to Iwa-chan,” Oikawa announces, dramatically throwing his hand onto his forehead.

“You should be used to it by now,” Iwaizumi replies, using the opportunity to grab Oikawa’s hand and pull him to his feet.

When they leave the restaurant, it is already dark outside, nighttime creeping up at them. They make their way to the fair, competitive grins promising a lively day. 

Later, Oikawa watches as the multicolored lights illuminate a moonless night, transforming its darkness into a long-forgotten memory. He takes a moment to observe Iwaizumi, walking towards him with two steaming mugs of hot cocoa. Framed by the mauve lighting of the booth behind him, Iwaizumi’s skin seems to glow, radiant with something that requires more than words to describe. Oikawa tucks his face further into his scarf to hide his smile and all it threatens to reveal. 

He knows it is futile, in the end. There is no pretense here, no masks, no concealed feelings. They have always been able to read each other like an open book, exchange glances that turn into unspoken words. Oikawa knows that the blush that blooms on Iwaizumi’s cheeks is not caused by the cold, knows that the heat in his eyes is a promise for more, knows that the slight brush of their fingers as Iwaizumi presents Oikawa with his drink speaks for the yearning of the past eighteen years. He wonders, not for the first time, how he had understood that this was love, when the feeling in his chest has always simply been _Hajime_.

“You good?” Iwaizumi asks, brow raised provocatively, “or have you finally had enough of losing?”

“I never lose!” Oikawa squeaks, nearly spilling his cocoa in indignation.

“I wouldn’t exactly call that last performance winning.”

“Oh, _you_ ,” Oikawa says with a pout, raising a finger to threateningly poke Iwaizumi’s cheek. “I’ll show you just how _amazing_ I am at winning.”

At this, Iwaizumi catches the hand still poking at his cheek with his own, fingers tangling. Oikawa’s heart stutters in his chest as their eyes meet once more. Iwaizumi’s smile is coy, amusement and desire warring at the edges. The blush has moved to his nose and when he looks up at him beneath his lashes, Oikawa feels his veins ignite. “Show me, then.”

It is with half-lidded eyes and a self-assured charm playing at his lips that Oikawa replies. “Oh, I will.”

Oikawa wins. Or maybe it is just the way Iwaizumi’s fingers fit between his as they make their way home that evokes that particular feeling. Iwaizumi is pressed to his side, words in a low tenor meant to raise goosebumps on Oikawa’s skin. When they finally reach Iwaizumi’s front door, Oikawa turns to face him. Anticipation hangs heavy in the air, years of stolen glances rising to a staggering crescendo in this single moment.

Unwilling to wait any longer, Oikawa hooks a finger into Iwaizumi’s scarf, pulling it down to reveal his mouth, and then lets his finger linger on the red staining Iwaizumi’s cheeks. With deliberate gentleness, Oikawa moves his hand up until it is cupping Iwaizumi’s face and watches as his eyes fall close. _Oh_ , he thinks, _I like him so much._

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi sighs, hand moving to clutch Oikawa’s wrist.

“Hajime,” Oikawa replies, voice barely above a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

Iwaizumi groans low in his throat, head tilting backwards as his eyes flutter open. “What are you waiting for?” 

Oikawa laughs and then leans closer to brush his lips teasingly over the corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth. Untangling their hands, he reaches up to dig his long fingers into the small of Iwaizumi’s back. “For you to answer the question, Hajime,” he says, voice molten.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi breathes, hand sliding to the back of Oikawa’s neck, “kiss me already, you _dumbass_.”

Oikawa bites back his laughter and does as commanded, brushing his lips softly against Iwaizumi’s. It is delicate, yearning transformed into an easy press of lips, until Iwaizumi shudders and sighs into the air shared between them. At this, Oikawa uses the hand framing his face to tilt his head to the side, and pulls gently on Iwaizumi’s bottom lip with his teeth. The resulting gasp is an invitation, a declaration, a soaring heart expressed in a single breath and Oikawa’s mouth opens to deepen the kiss. 

Sensual, is how Oikawa would describe it. Sensual and slow, as his tongue runs against Iwaizumi’s, as his teeth graze his lips, as Iwaizumi’s fingers tangle in his hair and Oikawa’s hand runs up his back. Iwaizumi moans, low and heady, when Oikawa’s hand settles against his shoulder blades, pushing them closer together.

Breaking apart, Oikawa rests his forehead against Iwaizumi’s. No words are spoken, just heavy breaths and eyes that meet, dripping with affection and a feeling belonging to them alone. They share a laugh, soft and sweet, and Oikawa can feel the hand at his nape shiver slightly. 

Iwaizumi’s arm rises, wrapping around Oikawa’s shoulder and pulling him back down. This time, Oikawa pushes his other hand up as well, long fingers framing Iwaizumi’s face as he tilts it further back and licks into his mouth. This time, they are restless, greedy, as Iwaizumi presses closer to swallow the sounds pushing out of Oikawa’s throat. Teeth graze Oikawa’s lips, before Iwaizumi crowds even closer, back arching until their chests are pressed together. It feels like their hearts are beating in sync, as if they have always been meant to end up right here. 

Iwaizumi’s lips leave his and Oikawa chases after them, brushing them against Iwaizumi’s cheek instead when he chuckles. 

“C’mon,” Iwaizumi says, voice gravelly. Something in Oikawa’s chest surges at the sound. Taking his hand, Iwaizumi leads him to his front door and into the house. 

Iwaizumi’s bedroom bears the weight of their entire childhood and Oikawa feels overcome by a strange sense of restraint. He wanders over to the bed, sits on its edge and revels in a view that is engulfed in familiarity. So many changes and yet, a well-known sight. A hand on his shoulder and he is turned to face Iwaizumi, who is looking down at him with concerned eyes. “You okay?”

Oikawa nods, his insecurities and fears choking him. Something shifts in Iwaizumi’s gaze.

“Tooru,” he says, standing strong. Iwaizumi, once again a grounding force, his pillar. “We’ll figure this out.”

Iwaizumi’s hands move up his shoulders and to his face. Briefly, a grimace pulls at his face just as he glances down to seemingly assess Oikawa’s place on his bed. There is a staggering familiarity in the gesture, a face that he has seen times and times before. It hits him then, that this is just Hajime, the one person who embodies comfort more than his own home. Oikawa chuckles.

“Are you embarrassed, Iwa-chan?” 

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi mutters, red once again staining his skin. He surges forward, knees digging into the bed as he places himself on Oikawa’s lap. Sudden awkwardness tints the air and they are left staring at each other for a long moment, before Oikawa sees Iwaizumi’s lip twitch and they both burst into laughter. 

The booming sound soon dissolves into breathless giggling. Iwaizumi’s shoulders still shake as he leans forward to press his lips to Oikawa’s face, small pecks running from his cheeks to his chin. It is unbearingly sweet and Oikawa can’t help but dig his fingers into the thighs framing his hips. He feels the muscles tense, the strength evident. It invades his mind, then, that moment on the court; Iwaizumi’s legs pushing off the ground, the flex of his arm and back as he brings the ball down with a daunting force. Powerful and unyielding — Oikawa wants to _ruin_ him.

The hips above his rock forward and Oikawa’s mouth opens in a gasp. Iwaizumi’s moan is breathy as he brings their lips back together. The kiss is unfocused, sloppy, the slow rocking motion an effective distraction. Hands sliding to Iwaizumi’s ass, Oikawa presses down, halting all movement. Then, he grinds up and relishes in the whimper that leaves Iwaizumi’s mouth. He is beautiful like this, Oikawa thinks, with his fluttering eyes and flexing muscles. Wrapping one arm around Iwaizumi’s waist, he shifts the weight of his body onto his legs and stands up, only to turn around and lay them both onto the bed. Their heads knock together, Iwaizumi muttering a small _ow._ Oikawa snickers at the glare sent his way. 

“Thought you didn’t break easily, Iwa-chan?” He teases, hands grabbing onto the end of Iwaizumi’s shirt to lift it over his head and then hooking them into the waistband of his pants to pull them off as well.

“I’m going to punch you.” Iwaizumi replies and makes quick work of Oikawa’s shirt as well, popping the buttons of his jeans at the same time. 

“ _Kinky_.”

At this, Iwaizumi looks back up, unimpressed, buries his hands in Oikawa’s hair and _ruffles_. Oikawa shrieks, trying to get away, but Iwaizumi’s legs lock around his waist. When Iwaizumi lets up, his arms fall to the side of his head and he looks up at Oikawa with a self-satisfied grin. 

It’s on, Oikawa thinks. 

His hand maps out the expanse of Iwaizumi’s chest, lingering when he feels Iwaizumi’s breath grow heavier. His nail leaves a line against his collarbone, his thumb digs into his biceps, and when he reaches Iwaizumi’s hand, he tangles their fingers together and presses them into the mattress. Adjusting his stance, he lets his other hand wander to the front of Iwaizumi’s boxers. His breath hitches when Oikawa’s thumb begins to draw slow circles onto the head of his cock. Oikawa is tempted to swallow the soft sighs that fall from Iwaizumi’s mouth, but nips at his chin instead, then fits his mouth into the crook of his neck, licks and bites until Iwaizumi keens, “Tooru. _Tooru_.”

“ _Hajime_.” Oikawa’s voice sounds more winded than he’d like to admit, but the thoughts evaporate as soon as his head tilts and he catches a glimpse of Iwaizumi’s face, eyes screwed shut, biting his lip. The obvious pleasure is new, something that he has never seen before, and Oikawa wants to drown in it. “Hajime,” he repeats, “want to make you feel _good_.”

“Fuck — I,” Iwaizumi pants and rolls his hips into Oikawa’s hand. A moan tears out of Oikawa’s throat when he notices the wetness gathering under his thumb. He lets himself fall forward and slots their groins together, his hand moving to push against the bed.

“ _Hajime_.” Dragging his mouth upwards, he sucks at the area right below Iwaizumi’s chin. “Let me—”

Fingers tangle in his hair and he feels them pull, until Iwaizumi’s lips are back on his. Heat pools in his veins, he feels like he’s burning alive. Iwaizumi’s mouth is hot, smoldering, and Oikawa _wants_. Wants to devour, wants to _be_ devoured. Wants _Hajime_ , more than he’s ever wanted anything before. “ _Haji_.”

“Yes.” Iwaizumi’s voice cracks, “ _Tooru_. Get _on_ with it.”

Oikawa grinds their hips together, sets a ruthless pace. Heels dig into his back, fingers pull at his hair and he feels like he’s melting and erupting at the same time, as if he can taste the desire in the air. He is leaking, feeling like the pleasure is being pulled out of him with each whine falling from Iwaizumi’s lips. His mouth is red, swollen, and Oikawa can’t help but press his thumb against it. The moment he does, Iwaizumi moans and wraps his lips around the digit, sucking languidly. Oikawa jolts, gives a hard thrust that has Iwaizumi sliding up on the sheets.

Then, Iwaizumi’s eyes flutter open, their gazes lock, and he sees him mouth the three words that are solely his. Oikawa is _lost_. He comes with a shout, hips rocking erratically as he peaks. He sees Iwaizumi’s mouth fall open, his breath come faster, and words begin spilling past his lips. “C’mon, Haji. C’mon, c’mon. _Come for me_.”

Iwaizumi’s hand squeezes his and his back arches as he keens, loud and high pitched. His fingers search for purchase on Oikawa’s back and the setter watches as Iwaizumi’s head tilts back and he falls over the edge. 

Their breaths come heavy. Oikawa feels the sweat run down his back, the come pool in his boxers, but his limbs are unresponsive. Iwaizumi’s leg twitches against his and he slowly forces his head to move through the fog to press languid kisses to Iwaizumi’s face. There are soft pink blotches on his cheeks and a post-orgasm glow on his skin. When he smiles up at him through hazy eyes, Oikawa’s chest fills with a victorious wave of joy. 

“Think you broke me,” Iwaizumi mutters, words slurring together. Oikawa barks out a laugh and kisses the corner of his mouth.

“We don’t break that easily, remember?” There is nothing Oikawa can do against the obvious affection in his voice, or the way he can feel his features soften, emotions open and plain for Iwaizumi to see.

Iwaizumi hums, eyes fluttering with a discernible effort to stay awake. Bringing their still intertwined hands to his lips, he presses a kiss to Oikawa’s knuckles. “We’ll never break.”

“Never?” Oikawa’s voice has taken on a teasing lilt, even as he rolls to the side and winds his arm around Iwaizumi’s waist. “Not even when we’re countries apart, living two different lives?”

“No,” Iwaizumi says, “It’s always been us. That’s not going to change.”

Iwaizumi’s arms cradle him against his chest. Oikawa listens to the heart beating under him, steady and strong.

It will always be us, he thinks, and falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> hey.
> 
> hope you enjoyed my little exercise in writing intimacy! 
> 
> what was supposed to be a little drabble about kissing ran away from me and now here we are. 
> 
> if you liked it, come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/oikawashoyou)!! or on my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/oikawashoyou)! Twitter is also where I post my shorter drabbles, so feel free to check it out!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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